6. 6
“Good morning, pretty girl,” he murmured.
He sighed. “I did. This wasn’t my alarm, it’s a message.” His arm still trapped under me, he opened the message and I read it, inches from my face. There was no contact name.
Cleaners. One hour. Go.
“Fuck,” he exclaimed, quickly detangling himself.
“What does that mean, Elias?” I asked.
He was at the dresser, rifling through its contents. “Cleaners are sent to clean up any loose ends. I think I’m the loose end in this case. If they know you’re alive, then you are, too.” He dressed quickly, no time to be modest during an emergency.
Opening a bottom drawer, he pulled out a pair of women’s hiking pants and tossed them to me. “See if these fit,” he said. “It’s really all I have for you.”
He sat a white t-shirt and dark thermal on the bed for me to try, too. “I need to pee,” I blurted out.
“We have an hour, you can urinate. I’ll be down the hall in the armory, okay?”
The pants were a tight fit, but they worked, and the shirts fit much more comfortably. Loose, but comfortable.
Emerging from the bathroom, I noticed a hastily packed duffle bag on the bed. I peered inside to find a pile of black clothes. All utility.
I followed the metal clanking to find Elias plucking guns from the wall, all held up by large metal hooks. Drawers underneath held a cache of ammo, and he stuffed as much as he could into a second, much larger bag.
“Come here,” he said. I took a few steps toward him and watched while he prepared me for battle.
A knife and holster found a new home on my left thigh, and a shiny glock now rested on my right.
He yanked on the straps, likely stiff from being his back-ups.
Even now, life on the line, I was aware of how diligently he worked, how easily he transitioned from Elias to Special Agent Correa.
He was already decked out, a matching gun and knife to mine, but he had a belt with a few pouches on it for extra storage.
“You’re going to have to carry the laptop with you for now. I’m not leaving it anywhere.”
I nodded in understanding.
“Let’s go.”
He tossed the gun bag over his shoulder, and I ran to his room to grab his clothes before meeting him in the mud room.
Laptop secured to my back, duffle in hand, I followed Elias to the car, and he opened the back so we could pack our gear.
I kept the backpack with me, opting to put it on the floor of the front seat like I had done the night before.
As I opened the passenger door, I felt a hard slap against my ass, and spun around to find Elias grinning.
“The pants fit really nicely,” he said, running around to the other side of the car. A momentary reprieve from the Special Agent. I rolled my eyes and got in the car, and he promptly offered me a water bottle.
“The water bottles, even now?” I asked.
“Well, at Baker and Pryor, I was concerned that the water was contaminated, so it was for your safety. At this point, I just know that you’re going to need to drink water because you’re a human being.
” He started the car now, hitting the button to open the garage, and music began to play in the car.
Elias rushed to turn the music down, but I slapped his hand away.
He sped off anyway, letting me stare at him as the song played on.
“Don’t,” he said, softly. “That’s an order.”
“No, you don’t get to do that. What the fuck is this, Elias?” I laughed, in shock that a man who exuded masculinity could enjoy something so. . . classically feminine.
“I guess it was just the last thing I was listening to on my phone. It automatically connects.”
“But it’s Leann Rimes! I Need You by Leann Rimes!” I yelled.
“Do you not like the song?” He asked, feigning innocence.
“The song is fine, great really. I just thought that you were all doom and gloom.”
“I feel like it’s more doom and gloom and sex,” he retorted. “But I enjoy all of life’s pleasures, and one of life’s pleasures is this song.”
“Start it over,” I said.
“What?”
“Start it again. I want to sing,” I repeated.
“That’s not going to happen.” He tapped the screen a few times, changing the genre entirely. A hip hop song played quietly in the background. “Is this manly enough?”
“I’m sorry for making fun of you,” I said.
“You’re forgiven.” A smile lingered on his lips.
“I’m also sorry for being completely unserious right now while we are being hunted by the government.”
He shrugged. “It was nice to forget for a few minutes.”
“Where are we going, your office?”
“Yeah. It’s in Langely.”
I stopped to think for a moment as the dots connected in my brain. “Langely, like the headquarters for the CIA?” He nodded. “The same agency that is trying to murder you? And me?”
“I doubt the CIA is sending the cleaners. Probably a black ops unit, ordered from somewhere else,” he said, his hands readjusting their position on the steering wheel.
“That’s reassuring, that your own boss isn’t trying to kill you,” I offered.
“I didn’t exactly explain this to you, but I don’t technically work for the CIA, either,” he admitted.
I eyed him suspiciously. “Then who do you work for?”
“It’s classified.”
I shoved him lightly. “Don’t pull that. I’m on the way to your classified office, right now. You might as well spit it out.”
“I was messing around. It doesn’t have a true name, but we call it Unit 12 because there are twelve of us.
Twelve people outside of the President and his advisors with the knowledge of this type of virus.
If there is an outbreak somewhere around the world, or a laboratory that needs investigation, we can get help from other agencies, but we typically handle it ourselves. ”
“That’s pretty intense.” I didn’t know what else to say. Knowledge that would throw the world into chaos, gate kept by only a few was a heavy weight to carry.
“Most days it’s just watching, standing by waiting for information. I mean, the past few months I just had to play pretend janitor and wonder what the pretty scientist looked like naked. Not a bad gig,” he joked.
“And yet,” I started. “You had her in your bed last night and you still don’t know what she looks like naked.”
I didn’t miss that he licked his lips, trying not to smile. “I got a pretty good feel, and I can check her out now that she isn’t wearing a lab coat.”
“Yeah, she’s stuck in these tight ass pants. I’m praying we make it through the day without them ripping open,” I whined.
“Oh yes, that would be terrible.”
“Whose pants are these, anyway?” I asked.
“Uh,” he hesitated. “An ex-girlfriend’s.”
“And you kept them because?”
“I think you know the answer to that question,” he said pointedly.
“In case of emergencies?”
“In case of emergencies,” he concurred.
“Out of curiosity, how long have you had these?” I asked. It really didn’t matter. I had plenty of exes. I didn’t hold onto their clothes, as a normal person, but I was curious about the timeline here.
“A few years. Why? Are you jealous?” He asked.
“It depends. Was she hot?”
This got a laugh out of him. “I don’t think I should answer that.”
We made it through the security checkpoint without issue, as Elias was very friendly with the officer, and we pulled to a spot nearest a sewer grate, rather than the front door, leading me to believe that while entering would not be an issue, leaving might.
Then again, he had to prepare for the worst case scenario.
“Cassia, do you remember our conversation yesterday?” Elias asked as he turned the car off.
“You’re going to have to be more specific,” I said, genuinely unsure which conversation he was referring to.
“That I need you to listen and do exactly what I say, without hesitation,” he clarified.
“I understand,” I said. “I want to live.”
“Good, me too.” He handed me a leather bifold.
“What’s this?” I asked, opening it. “Oh!” It was his credentials that he almost let me see the day before.
“I just figured I’d let you see them. I mean, I offered. Gotta follow through.”
His name, photo, and a fake position were listed: Records Security. His clearance level though, was blacked out like it was redacted. “What’s up with your clearance level?”
He smirked. “Cool, huh? Rather than Secret or Top Secret, it’s really just the black bar. There are other colors, we just call them Redacted. It’s a little funny. The job title doesn’t fool anyone either, they just know better than to ask.”
A thought hit me as we stepped out of the car, armed to the gills. “Can we go in with weapons like this?”
“Of course. People that work here are agents, well, some of us work in records security, but we can have our guns. It’s dependent on credentials. We shouldn’t have any problems.”
I nodded and followed his lead, carrying borrowed clothes and weapons into a federal building. I had to throw away a pocket knife to visit the Arch in St. Louis, but sure, a Glock and a fixed-blade knife, holstered out in the open were fine here.
A massive building stood before me, or rather, a collection of buildings and memorials. We were entering through the original building, though a second had been built that connected to the first, and it all looked thrown together without much care. Like life, really.
Upon entering, a man in a suit approached us, and I did my best to look him in the eyes. He’d probably know I wasn’t supposed to be here regardless, but I tried to be aware of my body language and fix my posture.
The building was dated, that was for sure. It looked like an old elementary school. Large tiles on the ground and painted bricks for walls, it was due for an update.
“Elias,” the man said, holding out his hand. “Haven’t seen you for a while.”
Thank God they knew each other. I was so relieved I nearly cackled.
“Hey, Dwayne.” Elias handed him the bifold. “It has been a while. How was Courtney’s birthday? I know that’s old news now, but I remember how much you were looking forward to it.”
Dwayne clapped his hands together. “Oh, it went off without a hitch. I don’t get into the K-Pop, but she just had the night of her life. Tickets cost me a pretty penny, but it was worth it.”
Elias nodded. “Good to hear.”